16:23, Friday 17th February 2023
Slamming the paper onto the table my gaze goes to my manager, whose eyes widen and rush to put out his cigarette. “Marlene, I wasn’t expecting you today, how can I help?” My hand stays firm on the table and I straighten my back. “What is this about Dorcas Meadowes being on the cover of Vogue as top artist of the year? I thought you said I was going to be on Vogue or am I incorrect?”
He shuffles under my gaze and rummages through his papers, trying to find something decent enough to save himself from getting the blame. Peter Pettigrew is a skittish man. He tends to jump at any sudden movement, you could perhaps describe him as a rat not only based on the fact that he is skittish but based on the fact a few days ago, I received a message from another manager Sirius Black, telling me that he sold me out to Dorcas Meadowes.
Where do I begin with Dorcas Meadowes? She, like myself, is an artist, however she steals other peoples music and tries to make it look like I stole hers because she is a con artist. She takes from others and makes huge profits for herself. If it wasn’t for the fact she stole from me I would have left her be but now this is personal.
Turning my attention back to Pettigrew, he finally mutters out a response, which I don’t catch. Why are people so infuriating today? My eyes narrow at him when he looks at me signaling for him to repeat himself he does. “I might have forgotten to send the request in.” The fear in his eyes is apparent as he forces himself to look back down at the cigarette stains on his desk.
Anger runs through my veins, “forgotten? You forgot? Did you forget it while you were sending the lyrics of my nearly released single to Dorcas? Yes I know about that, or was it when you got too drunk to remember your own name, nonetheless the fact I had a show and left people waiting for half an hour because the opening act didn't show up because you were meant to pick them up from the airport.” He tries to interrupt but I don’t let him, sick of the way I have been treated.
“No, don't try to interrupt me Pettigrew, you keep me here till the sky comes up for the next day to work on song that I don’t even want to sing, but you insist on doing claiming it will be a hit,” I move my hands around whilst talking keeping an eye on Peters expressions, “you were my best friend Peter, you treated me terribly, I barely had time to eat during the day, when I got home I would pass out from exhaustion, do you know what that does to a person?” He opens his mouth to talk but closes his mouth and shakes his head.
“Of course you don’t, you sit behind that chair doing nothing all day, and when I am in the studio you sit on the other side scoffing down food and saying I am only allowed two minute breaks, that isn’t healthy Pete.” I pick up the paper and watch as his eyes follow me until they land on the paper. I give him a smirk before unfolding the paper and ripping off the front page, leaving no evidence Dorcas was on there in the first place. I turn and walk towards the door, opening it and stopping to turn around saying one final thing, “I quit good luck on finding someone else to manage, trust me it will be hard.” I slam the door behind me and leave the building. That’s the last time I will ever go there.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I immediately go onto twitter, tweets flying through saying things like how it's unfair I didn't get artist of the year and that I deserve better. Pressing the plus button I use Siri to write out a message and tweet it, close the app and open the phone app.
He answers on the first ring. “Are you still looking for someone Sirius?” The other side of the phone lets out a chuckle and the sounds of papers being organised fill my ears. “Indeed I am McKinnon, I assume you came to your senses about the rat did you?” I nod but realise he can’t see me through the phone and reply “you’ve got me there, been meaning to do it for a long time anyways, this time I had a valid reason, when can I start then Black?”
My eyes wander down the street looking past all the shops to the Three Legged Ducks. Perfect, I could use a drink. “Marlene? Marlene, are you still there?” I shift my focus back to the conversation, “yes sorry, I was thinking about going down to the pub sorry.” He lets out a throaty laugh, “at least you’ve got your priorities sorted, what about mid-day? You remember where I work, if that's everything I wont keep you, enjoy your night McKinnon and don’t complain of a headache when you show up tomorrow.” I let out a snort and grin, hanging up and walking into the pub.
The smell of stale crisps hits me as I walk through the door. It may not be the most pleasant smell but at least they serve alcohol and today I feel like getting absolutely hammered. I slowly walk up to the bar and settle down into one of the stools, placing one hand on the table and running the other through my recently cut hair. It’s now shoulder length, it used to be down my back but it didn’t feel like me. I only kept it long to please certain people such as my mother and father.
As soon as I left New York for London, the first thing I did was take a pair of scissors and chop the majority of it off. I did it myself because why would I go to the hairdressers and get charged for it when I can do a great job myself. Ordering a Vodka coke, I scan the room to see if anyone I know is here. Bingo, at the corner table of the room sits Mary, Lily and Pandora. They must have randomly decided to meet up. I switch my phone back on and see the message asking to meet, it was from five minutes ago, Lily looks over and smiles at me, I smile back and she moves her head slightly left suggesting I come over, I nod back.
Sliding my money across the bar, I stand up and walk over to the table, making Pandora bunch over so I can sit down. “How have you been, Rockstar?” Mary asks before sipping her drink through a straw. “Oh you know the same old same old, except I did leave Peter and now I have a new manager.” Everyone's eyes widened clearly showing that they weren't expecting that for a Friday night. “It's honestly not that bad, he was exposing my songs to Dorcas so I left him and tweeted about it so no one can trust him.” I down my drink in one go and smile at them.
Pandora puts her hand gently on my arm and quietly says, “I know I never say this and tell you not to say this but I really hate Peter and Dorcas. Now let's celebrate you leaving someone toxic shall we?” I can’t tell whether I am more shocked about Pandora saying she hates someone as she constantly says we don’t hate people but simply dislike them, or the fact she can casually go from hating someone to celebrating. I shake my head and laugh, dragging her up and to where there is space.
Lay All Your Love On Me comes blasting through the speaker at the other side of the room. I smirk and Pandora knows exactly what I am about to do. Pandora and I are obsessed with ABBA and the Mamma Mia films, which often lead to her staying at my apartment and spending the whole night watching both the films and using my record player to listen to every ABBA song. We do the crawling part while bursting out with laughter and ending up lying on the floor entangled together nearly crying from how much we have laughed.